


can't let go, won't let go

by annie_dot



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Communication, Enjoy my pain, Happy Ending, How Do I Tag, I Don't Even Know, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Idiots in Love, M/M, Natasha Romanov Lives, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tumblr Prompt, also ffh who?, everyone bliped back after a year, now look at it, this was supposed to be 1k
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-10-12 06:55:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20560088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annie_dot/pseuds/annie_dot
Summary: “No.” Peter let his head fall into his hand, cheeks red and a smile on his lips. “I think you’re just afraid to be happy.”And as he was looking at Peter, all sweet and pliable and soft on his couch, in his house, drunk on his wine, all Tony could think was ‘you have no idea’.





	can't let go, won't let go

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a Tumblr prompt: "I think you're just afraid to be happy."

When he was 15, in a 60-hour alcohol-induced work frenzy, Tony Stark created the base code of what would become, a decade and some later his best companion and closest friend. He was old enough to know that there was no one he could share this with, no one that he was one hundred percent sure wouldn’t report him to the authorities. He had learned his lesson a few years back when one of his colleagues snitched to the teacher that Tony Stark was building _talking_ _robots_ in the school lab. Two hours later, the government had his work into custody, and he was waiting in a sketchy police station for his parents’ butler to come pick him up. So his accomplishment was to remain a secret. Still, he did it.

(He celebrated by drinking some more.)

When he was 17, fresh out of MIT and having met an individual he could, sometimes, call a friend, Tony Stark built a helping robot, ’cause he was drunk most of the time and couldn’t find his tools. He was also drunk when he wrote the code, so the result wasn’t helpful, but it was the first robot he put pieces of the base code he invented in, so he figured he should keep it, see how it evolves.

(He finally wasn’t alone in that workshop anymore.)

When he was 21, in a month he has no recollection of, Tony Stark upgraded more of that code into the robot and gave it a name. Dum–E may have been a dumb name, but it was still a name. And a name is always better than no name. 

(He wished he had no name.)

When he was 25, Tony Stark was drinking, building weapons, filming sex-tapes, doing drugs, building more weapons and drinking some more. He inherited every single one of his father’s assets, every single one of his plans. He burnt them all and made his own. Stark Industries may have his father’s name, but it was now his, so it was gonna be his weapons and his ideas.

(He wanted to burn the company too.)

When he was 26, Tony Stark met Happy, a very unhappy man. He made him his bodyguard. And driver. And errand-boy.

(And friend.)

When he was 28, Tony Stark finished the code to the first artificial intelligence, uploaded it into a server, made a nice acronym for it, gave himself the statute of genius. A learning, talking, _artificial_ intelligence. He almost wanted to stay conscious long enough to celebrate.

(Jarvis had died earlier that year.) 

When he was 32, Tony Stark started taking his company seriously. He met Pepper Potts. He wondered if that’s how love felt like. 

(It wasn’t.)

When he was 38, Tony Stark inaugurated a new missile for the U.S. Army, flew all the way to Afghanistan for a demonstration, got attacked by a group of terrorists and got shrapnel inside his chest cavity. Sure, the bad things started after that, when he was kept captive by said group and forced to build another one of those missiles, with a car battery keeping him alive. Literally. He found out his weapons were being illegally distributed to the world’s greatest mobs to start wars, which, if he were to be frank, was even worse than the war profiteering dear old dad did. But hey, he met an amazing man who kept him alive for three months, who helped him build a way to escape. Who died giving him the chance to escape. Back in New York, he found out his assistant kept his company afloat for him; he found out the arc energy that he miniaturized in that cave would keep keeping him alive; he found out one of his closest friends was making transactions he never approved of. He found a way to make the miniaturized arc technology fuel a suit of armor; he found a way to take his company back, to turn it into a different direction, to stop making bombs that would kill children. He found a way to recover.

(He found purpose.)

When he was 42, Tony Stark had it all. 

(So, of course, he ruined it.)

When he was 45, Tony Stark wanted to build a better version of J.A.R.V.I.S., an A.I. that could handle more, like maybe, in a few years, clean energy around the globe. Instead, he created a homicidal _intelligent_ robot that wanted to destroy the world.

(It destroyed _his_ world.)

When he was 46, Tony Stark was fighting his teammates, his friends, his family, because he screwed up. When he was 46, Tony Stark lost everything he found in the past 8 years.

(And found something better.)

When he was 47, Tony Stark got engaged, which was to be expected after years of him and Pepper dancing around each other. He had half a thought she would say no because after all, he failed to keep his promise to her and give up Iron Man. But she didn’t. They announced the press twenty seconds after decided themselves, in a conference that wasn’t even meant to be about their relationship. But hey, the kid had said no, and in all his 47 years of being on this planet, Tony hadn’t made a decision as mature as this 15-year-old just did.

Peter Parker was a force of nature. He was contradicting himself at every turn. He was stubborn and shy, brilliant and clumsy, extraordinary and showed Tony dumb memes every time he saw him. And while Tony still wasn’t sure he made the right call involving the kid in the fight between the Avengers, wasn’t sure he was right in giving him a multi-million suit, in giving him access to the workshop level in Stark Tower, Tony was lacking friends and teammates these days, and he took what he could get. 

They didn’t really talk. Tony was suspecting Peter will never really get over the stunt he pulled on top of that building after the ferry thing. It’s fine. He shouldn’t get over it. But they worked together, and they worked together good. The kid was incredibly smart, and now that Tony gave him a real internship, he seemed to want to take advantage of it frequently as he could. They agreed on once a week, on Fridays, after school. If the kid sometimes texted Tony and asked if he could drop by because he had some ideas about the suit update, and Tony said ‘yes’ because Pepper never came down to his workshop, and he hadn’t gone up in three days, and he was scared to do so so they wouldn’t fight, and he was lonely, well, no one had to know. 

So Tony started to enjoy the company. He should’ve taken that as a sign.

Slowly, Peter stopped asking to come over on other days. He used to spend hours on end working alongside Tony in the workshop on Fridays; now he only stayed two hours, tops. And after a few weeks, when the kid stepped in the workshop one afternoon, Tony took one look at him and decided the news wasn’t good. 

“Hey, kid.”

“Hey, Mr. Stark.”

“You don’t look too good.” Tony put the screwdriver down, close the windows on what he was working on, and turned around with his stool. “Wanna tell me what happened?”

Peter looked down at his shoes, and as he stood there, six feet away from the door, playing with his fingers, Tony thought he never looked this young before.  
“Kid, you’re freaking me out. What’s going on?”

Tony thought he saw him flinch. When Peter finally looked up, his eyes were red and teary, as if he had been crying before coming here. Tony stood up and took two steps before Peter’s hand came up and he stopped in his tracks. The kid met his eyes dead-on, took a few deep breaths and then he started talking:

“I’m sorry Mr. Stark, but I can’t come to work with you anymore.”

Tony didn’t miss a breath.

“Is it the schedule? ‘Cause we can totally agree on another day or even the weekend.”

“No, it’s not – “

“Is it your aunt? I can talk to her – “

“Sir – “

“School? Too much homework? I mean it would take some persuading but – “

“It’s me!”

Tony’s mouth shut with a sound, and he looked at Peter, who was now breathing harshly, and he looked as if he might start crying again.

“I don’t follow.”

“It’s me, sir. _I_ can’t keep working here.”

“Still don’t Pete. What are you trying to say?”

Peter sighed and looked Tony in the eye again, his posture screaming determination even as tears fell down his cheeks.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Stark., but I don’t want the internship anymore. You should find someone else to give it to.”

“Oh.”

Tony honestly wanted to say something to convince him to change his mind, to keep coming, to make him not leave too, like everyone else in Tony’s life. Instead, what came out of his mouth was:

“It’s fine, kid, don’t worry about it. Your life comes first, as always. It’s normal for you not to want to spend that much time with some old man, anyway. Don’t sweat it. Well, the workshop is always opened to you and you have my number in case you need help with something.”

Tony turned back to his work and pretended not to hear the door closing after Peter.

After that, everything was pretty much familiar ground. He tried to stay away from alcohol for Pepper’s sake, but it didn’t always work. He locked himself in his workshop; he built another suit, nano-tech this time, he planted it on his chest, right over where the old arc reactor used to sit. And in one darker night, he built an armor for the kid too. The Iron Spider. He told himself it didn’t matter that much that the kid was growing up and decided he needed a social life more than he needed Tony. It was the normal course of nature. It didn’t matter that much.

(But it did.) 

When he was 48, Tony Stark took a one-way trip to space. What he saw six years back was true, after all. The ship landed in New York, effectively the city with the most superheroes. Really, the aliens weren’t really smart. So he, Strange, and Strange’s even stranger friend, Wong, took them up. Truth it, he’d be toast if it weren’t for Peter. The same Peter Tony had not thought about in more than half a year who said he can’t keep coming to the workshop who Tony had, in the end, pushed away too. The kid jumped in between him and the big ugly _thing_, and for half a second, Tony’s heart stopped beating, thinking the kid would die. Right, super strength. 

All was working well, really, until Peter hung himself to a spaceship, that was, shocker, going to space. 

The thing is, the suit Tony gave Peter was good, but it wasn’t designed to sustain that kind of atmosphere. So Tony had never been happier for making the Iron Spider than that moment when Peter started falling and the suit reached him just in time to stop him from floating away. The parachute really should have taken him back to the ground. Instead, a few minutes later, when Tony was trying to come up with a plan that didn’t involve him or Strange dying, he turned around to see the kid hanging from the ceiling. And while he surely wasn’t happy about the sudden developments, Peter seemed to act normally around him, as he did when they started working in the workshop together, and Tony couldn’t stop his heart from doing a little dance party. 

But then Titan happened. And while Tony fought with all his might, and he tried his goddamned best, it still wasn’t enough, because, at the end of the day, when the Guardians were turning to dust around him, he heard Peter’s broken ‘Mr. Stark’ and he felt like his life could end right there. He turned and saw the look of pure terror on the kid’s face, and Tony swore he wanted to take it all himself. And when Peter clung to him, as if Tony could stop this, as if there was anything he could do, as if Peter truly believed that Tony could stand in front of the power of magic stones, he had never felt as much as a disappointment in his life. And then at the end, after all that was left of Peter was dust on Tony’s bloody hands, he waited for his turn, but it never came, and all he was hearing around him were Peter’s last words, a whispered ‘I’m sorry’. 

It took three weeks for him and the robot girl to get back to earth. And they didn’t even manage to do so on their own. When he stepped the first time on the ground, at the Avengers Compound, the first face he saw was Steve. While Tony was glad that someone else he had become to think of as family over the years wasn’t dead, he just didn’t feel he could deal with that at that moment. He collapsed in Pepper’s arms and all he could think about was Peter collapsing in his.

He went and knocked on May Parker’s door two weeks later. He didn’t know what he was expecting to find, but he couldn’t leave it like this. If there was a chance the woman hadn’t died, she deserved an explication. When the door was opened, he expected a slap. Or maybe said door being slammed in his face. He did not expect aunt May to jump into his arms, sniffle and laugh relieved. 

“Oh God, Mr. Stark, thank God. Thank God.” She let him go, but kept her hands on his shoulders and looked him right in the eye, tears pouring down her cheeks.  
“Please tell me he is wherever you Avengers hide, tied up to a bed, so hurt he couldn’t even call for a month. Please tell me he lost a hand, or a leg, or hell, an organ, but that he’s still breathing. Please tell me he’s been with you and not dust on some road.”

She was looking at him, hope in his eyes, and Tony was completely overtaken by the self-hatred he was experiencing at the moment. How was he supposed to tell this woman her only family is dead? He tried to keep his voice level, and his eyes dry, his knees stable.

“I’m extremely sorry, Mrs. Parker, but Peter is dead.”

She let his shoulders go, denial all over her face.

“He got on the ship that left New York, five weeks ago. He followed me and one of my colleagues into space. We were still there when the snap happened. I’m sorry ma’am. I truly am.”

May was looking at him as if she was seeing a ghost. She wasn’t crying anymore.

“It took you five weeks to come tell me?” she whispered meekly, hurt in her voice.

“I’m sorry.”

“Get out of my face.”

(He was too shaken to fly back, so he called Happy to come pick him.)

When he was 49, Tony Stark had a cabin in the forest where he lived alone. Rhodey came to visit him a few times a month. Happy did too for a couple of times. Pepper only called. And then Captain fucking America knocked on his door, telling him he found a way they could make it right, and although all Tony had wanted for the past year was for the ground to open up and swallow him whole, he packed his bags and drove to the Compound with him. 

He spent the next week working out time traveling with Scott Lang of all people. He spent it calculating exactly where and when they had to go, what are the chances of succeeding, and what are the risks. And even if the risks included dying, and being lost in the quantum realm, and messing up the universe even more, every time Tony thought about Peter’s face when he realized he would die, he knew he couldn’t back down.

Surprisingly, it went with no issue. After only one minute, one minute that felt like an eternity, Tony was building a gauntlet for the stones, and then Bruce snapped his fingers.

Nothing happened. 

Bruce was on the floor, Natasha and Steve hovering over him, and the world kept moving.

And then Clint’s phone rang, his wife’s picture on the screen.

“It worked.”

Everyone around him was running suddenly, making calls and shouting. People started appearing in the yard, visible through the window. Tony found himself a stool to collapse on, the knowledge that somewhere in this world Peter Parker was alive again too much to comprehend while standing. Natasha was suddenly next to him. He turned a bit to her. She was smiling, something he hadn’t seen her do since the Snap.

“Everyone came back to the same spot they disappeared from.”

Tony’s head snapped up. “I have to get to Titan.” He got up, and then a small hand landed softly on his forearm.

“Tony, Strange is with him.”

“Right. You’re right.”

“They’ll be right here. Just be patient.”

She got up after that, leaving Tony to sit on that chair, counting the seconds.

An hour passed. He thought he saw Barnes, and the king of Wakanda. A couple more hours. Lang’s girlfriend. Hank Pym and his wife. A walking tree. Then it was night out, and people started leaving the workshop, retiring with their loved ones, glad to see them alive. Tony felt a presence sit on the same chair Natasha used.

“It is hard,” Wanda said.

“What?”

“To see everyone so happy.”

Tony looked at her, confused. “What do you mean?”

“My loved one isn’t coming back, Tony,” she smiled sadly.

He remained quiet for a few moments, not knowing what to say. “It’s good to have you back. It’s been a tough year.”

“For you maybe.”

Tony narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?”

Wanda stood up and turned to the window. Outside people were laughing, inaudible from their spot. “It’s been five years for us.”

“I’m sorry, what? Five what?”

She looked down at him, and only now he was noticing her hair was shorter. “The stone gave us a reality to live in. A dreamlike reality.” 

“I’m confused.”

“A world where nothing bad could happen. Where all our greatest wishes were within reach.”

“You’ve got to be shitting me.” Tony deadpanned. 

The dry laugh that came out of Wanda’s throat sounded like it was plucked out. 

Tony looked at her. There were laugh lines around her mouth. “How was your world?” he found himself asking.

“Happy. It was happy.”

Once again, by trying to do good, Tony ruined everything.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be. It might have been happy, but it wasn’t real.” She turned to him and smiled, putting a hand on his head. “You did good, Tony.”

Tony went to bed after that, even if he didn’t sleep a wink all night.

The next morning, when he was walking towards the kitchen, he heard laughter. When he turned around the corner, he was met with the view of his team around the kitchen isle. Quill raised his head from his plate and shouted around a mouth full of pancakes: “Stark!”

Suddenly there were arms around him and antennae in his face.

“The insect man told us it was you that figured out how to take us out of our mental prisons,” Mantis said. “And for that, we are eternally grateful.”

“Yeah, no problem.” Tony patted her on the arms and smiled slightly, then looked at Quill. “Listen, there was a kid with you, you know. This tall, bendy, spats out spider web from his wrists.”

“Strange opened up a different portal for him. I think he said it was to his aunt or something.”

“Okay, thanks. Nice having you all back. Yay Avengers and all. Gotta go.”

Tony didn’t wait for the elevator. He opened the first window and flew off. Ten minutes later, he found himself in the backstreet of May Parker’s apartment building.

Which is exactly how far his plan went. 

He spent the next twenty minutes pacing the little alley up and down, thinking what he would say to Peter. ‘Hey kid I’m sorry I let you die but hey you’re back now wanna go do some work together?’ didn’t really fit the situation.

When he finally gathered up enough courage to go up, dusk was setting. He knocked on the door and waited. When it opened, the person in front of him surely couldn’t be the same kid Tony watched die on Titan. Peter’s eyes widened, his mouth falling open. 

“To - Mr. Stark. What are you doing here?”

Tony. He was gonna call him Tony. He pretended his chest didn’t hurt.

“What do you mean? You didn’t come say hi. Of course I’m here.”

Peter looked at him for a few more seconds and then turned around. 

“May, I’m stepping outside for a minute!” 

He then walked out and close the door behind him. “Come on, we can talk on the roof. Follow me.” 

When they got there, Tony watched Peter go to the edge of the building and lean against the railing. He took a deep breath before he started talking. “You look good, kid.”

“I’m not really a kid anymore.”

There was something off in Peter’s voice, but Tony figured it was normal, after everything he’d been through.

“Yeah, you’re right. Sorry, habits.”

Peter sighed and turned around. “No, I’m sorry. You brought all of us back. I should be thanking you, not being pissy.”

The wind was blowing Peter’s hair softly, and Tony took a few seconds just to look at him. His jaw was more defined, a shadow of beard noticeable. He was taller, but not by much, now probably the same height as Tony himself. There was no trace of childhood in him. The light of the city was caught in Peter’s eyes, and Tony wanted to close the monumental distance between them and hug the shit out of him. He couldn’t control when his voice came out breathier than usual with his next words. “Really, you shouldn’t. It was my fault in the first place that you were on that planet.”

Peter smiled. “Maybe, but I would have died here too. It changed nothing.”

Tony didn’t like how that smile made his heart jump. 

“Still.”

They stayed in silence for a few minutes, Peter looking at the view and Tony looking at Peter. It was the latter of the two that finally broke the silence. 

“Anyway, it’s getting pretty late and I should go, before your aunt comes looking for you and sees me. She’s not particularly my biggest fan right now.”

“Yeah, she made that plenty clear,” Peter responded with a small laugh. 

Tony smiled. “You should come over by the workshop tomorrow. It’s been some time since we had a real chat.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Six freaking years.” Peter took a deep breath before talking again. “I’ll be there. Is 3 all right?”

“Yeah, it’s perfect.”

“Okay, then. Goodnight, Mr. Stark.”

“’ Night Pete.”

This time, Tony flew to the Tower, and even before getting out of the suit, he poured himself a drink, trying not to think about Peter’s eyes in the city lights.  
The next day, the doors to the elevator opened at 3 on the dot. 

“I see I still have all of my clearances,” Peter said instead of hello.

Tony looked up from the new suit’s charts and smiled at him. “Of course. You know, just in case you ever needed the lab. And then, after the Snap, I didn’t really spend time here.”

“Yeah, I guess that makes sense.” Peter got closer to the table Tony was at. “What are you working on?”

“It’s the nano-tech suit. I was planning on updating it. It’s overdue. I haven’t made an update since the Snap.”

“You haven’t updated it in a year?” Peter looked a little alarmed for a second, then amusement colored his eyes. “Who are you and what have you done with Tony Stark.”

“Ha, hilarious, kid. It’s actually that… well, I kinda hung up the suit, after… you know, after Titan.”

Peter sat down on the stool in front of Tony, putting his hands on the table. He didn’t notice last night in the dusk light, but Peter was sporting a tan.

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”

Tony stared a little as Peter looked around the lab, then the younger got up and started circling the stations. “Well then,” he said, picking up a screwdriver, “give me something to do.”

“I could use a second set of eyes on this, actually,” Tony said with a smile. 

A few hours later, they were in deep with the suit updates when something happened.

“– and if you maximize the power of the upper propulsors by, let’s say, 25 percent, you get better traction when you turn mid-flight.” Peter was simulating the action on the holo-screen with his left hand as he was talking, when Tony’s eyes caught the tan line of a ring on his ring finger, and his brain short-circuited. 

“This way you don’t have to lose speed, and if we – “

“I’m sorry, are you _married_?”

Peter froze at his side, and then quickly withdrew his hand and hid it with his other one. He turned a bit towards Tony as he answered. “I guess not really. I mean I was. I was actually on holiday when we were brought back, but, uh, not anymore?” Tony took a step back and leaned against the table. Suddenly his legs weren’t strong enough to sustain his weight anymore. 

“Oh god,” he whispered, running a hand through his hair, “we took you away from your wife.”

“Husband.”

Tony raised his head. “What?”

Peter was already looking at him, eyes teary. “My hus – his voice caught on the word – band.”

Tony’s heart broke, and he felt as if he would happily give his life for the tears in Peter’s eyes to disappear. “Kid,” he started.

Peter turned back to the holo-screen, already typing something in. When he spoke next, his voice was oddly calm. “And you didn’t take me away. It wasn’t real. There was nothing to take me away from. Now as I was saying –“

Tony stopped listening, and Peter didn’t stay much longer. When the doors of the elevator closed, Tony allowed himself to collapse in the first chair, holding his chest and wishing, once again, the ground would open up and bury him.

That night, after half a bottle of whiskey, Tony texted Peter.

So I was thinking you could come over tomorrow too?

You got really smart since last time I saw you

I heard some great ideas today.

Peter texted back a few hours later, while Tony was working on one of his cars.

Same hour?

It became a routine. Peter would come after lunch hour, they would work for a bit, then they’d go their separate ways. Tony didn’t ask about the five years Peter spent in the fake reality, didn’t ask about the tan line, and Peter didn’t ask about the year Tony spent in the woods, about Pepper. It worked. 

After a few weeks, Peter started staying longer, until dinner time. He started laughing a bit more, too, being a bit more relaxed. Tony’s eyes would catch up the light in his a bit more often, too.

One day, Tony asked him if he wanted to stay for dinner. Peter looked as if he were in pain as he answered, “That’d be nice.”

A few days after, he was in the workshop when F.R.I.D.A.Y. announced Natasha was in the penthouse. She was already mixing herself a Bloody Mary when he walked in.

“It’s 11 a.m., agent Romanov,” Tony said with a smile.

Her face had a mirroring one. “Want one too?”

“Always.”

Two drinks later, they were both on the couch, sitting in comfortable silence. Natasha put her drink on the coffee table in front of them and turned around to look at Tony. He chugged what was left of his. “Shoot.”

“How’s Peter?”

“Why?”

“He doesn’t answer calls or texts. But he comes here.”

“There’s technology to keep him entertained here,” Tony sighed. 

Natasha threw him a long look. “And you think that’s all?”

“And it’s closer to his place than the Compound?” Tony made a noncommittal gesture with his hand. "I don’t know how he is. He seems better.”

“Huh.”

Tony looked over at her. “What?”

“Oh, nothing. I just would’ve thought he’d be happy to be back. Most people are.”

“Most people didn’t marry in a nonexistent reality.”

Natasha’s head snapped up, her eyes wide. “He got married?”

“Yeah.”

“To who?”

“I didn’t fucking ask, Nat, it’s not really a nice ice-breaker. Or a casual topic. Oh, hey kid I haven’t seen you in a while, so who stole your heart, huh?” Tony said with a dry laugh.

“Maybe he doesn’t answer calls ’cause he’s ignoring that person,” Natasha said, ignoring Tony’s outburst.

“Bold of you to think he met the guy before he got dusted.”

She looked at him oddly for a second.

“What? Don’t look at me like that, you make me feel stupid and I’m not stupid.”

Natasha smiled. “If you hadn’t been holed up in this place since everyone came back, you’d know that they met no one new. That’s how some people figured it wasn’t real. So this guy Peter married, he has to have already met him.”

Tony looked down at his glass before declaring he needed another drink. As he was pouring himself a glass of rum, Natasha suddenly appeared in his field of vision.

“We’re worried for you.”

“Don’t be.”

They left it at that. 

When Peter came later that day, Tony tried not to stare at his hands working or at his legs in those shorts. He failed. 

Soon enough, Peter was having dinner with Tony in the workshop most days. During one of those days, Tony asked him, “Why didn’t you go back to be an Avenger?”

Peter dropped his gaze to the Chinese take-out box in his hands. “It’s just not something that would make me happy anymore. I did it for five years, but nothing bad happened.” He looked at Tony, a sad smile hanging at the corner of his mouth. “I don’t have the same courtesy here. I don’t wanna test my luck.”

“And all the people that need their friendly neighborhood spider-man back?” joked Tony.

“I guess they’ll have to make do. I’m perfectly content to sit here, work and eat take-out,” Peter looked the older man in the eye, “with you.”

Tony was suddenly reminded by how young Peter was when he first stepped into the workshop. He was reminded by how awe-struck he was when he looked at Tony. By how he looked that day when he came to tell him he wasn’t gonna come by anymore. Tony wanted to smile, ruffle the kid’s hair, close this enormous distance between them. But he couldn’t. Instead, he stood up and said, “Well then, let’s work.”

One specific afternoon, in the middle of summer, when it was too hot to stand clothes on your skin, Tony let the AC run at maximum as he worked, Peter two stations down. When the sun got low enough, so it wasn’t covered by the building, it hit him spot on. Tony stopped working. He couldn’t tear his eyes from the sweat on Peter’s neck, from the way his hair ends were slightly wet, sticking to his skin. The kid’s tongue peeked out, gathering sweat from his top lip before going back in, and Tony lost it. He slammed the suit piece he was working on to the table so hard that Peter flinched and looked at him with wide eyes. Eyes the light was suddenly reflecting into, making them look like a thousand precious stones. Tony couldn’t take this. He started making his way towards the elevator, not looking back.

“I’m sorry, kid, I remembered I had an appointment I can’t miss, you can stay however long you want, food’s on me.”

He never got to hear Peter’s response. In the elevator, he let his head fall back against the mirror. What was wrong with him? The kid has been back for two months. He had been married. Like, commitment and all. And Tony? Tony was a middle-aged man with tons of issues and with nothing good to give. He needed to pull himself together. He couldn’t ruin this too. They were almost friends, Peter was almost comfortable with him again. And last year he’d been sixteen for Christ’s sake. Underage. Not legal. Not even talking about the morality of it all. Tony wanted to die. He was a sick man. A sick, sick man.

Sure, it didn’t stop him from imagining how Peter would look laid out on his silk sheets, hair sticking to his face, as Tony slowly pulled him apart at the seams. How that half word he heard months ago would sound falling from Peter’s lips, how the morning sun would kiss his skin, how it felt to touch him, how good he’d be for Tony. 

In hindsight, the moment everything changed was when rain started while they were in the workshop, and by the time night fell, it turned into a full storm. Tony could have offered Peter a car or money for a cab, or nothing, but he had felt particularly lonely for the past few days, and he was a weak man. He just wanted to look at Peter’s lips for a few more minutes. Maybe hear him laugh once more. Or at least smile. So he offered him a room.

“Mr. Stark, really, it’s fine.”

“No, it’s not, it’s pouring outside. Thor is angry and all that. And the penthouse is quite literally huge. I have like, ten rooms from which you can choose.”

Peter caved in, and they spent the elevator ride in silence. When they got there, Tony could’ve said goodnight and went to bed, but he was a weak man, so instead, he offered Peter a drink. 

Soon, Tony was opening the second bottle of wine, and Peter was tucked in between the couch pillows, hair fluffy, flushed cheeks, and a big smile. After he refilled their glasses, and he handed Peter his, Tony retook his place on the couch, facing Peter, one leg under him.

“So where were we?”

“You were laughing at me,” Peter said, smiling.

“It’s ‘cause you’re such a lightweight it’s incredible. Have you actually never drank before?”

Peter let his head fall on the headrest. “I’ve told you before, it’s because of my metabolism. I could be an alcoholic and still get drunk super fast.”

“Are you that drunk, kid? You never told me that.”

Peter’s smile disappeared immediately, and he straightened up. “You’re right, I didn’t.”

They sat in silence for a while.

“Mr. Stark?”

“Hm?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Blow me away.”

“What happened with you and Ms. Potts?” Peter was looking straight into his glass.

Tony took a deep breath before answering. “We just couldn’t make it work. I wasn’t good for her.”

Peter laughed a little, turning towards Tony. “I don’t think that was it at all.”

“Trust me, kid, it was.”

“No.” Peter let his head fall into his hand, cheeks red and a smile on his lips. “I think you’re just afraid to be happy.”

And as he was looking at Peter, all sweet and pliable and soft on _his_ couch, in _his_ house, drunk on _his_ wine, all Tony could think was ‘you have no idea’.

The next morning, Tony cooked them breakfast, and as Peter was nursing his hangover over coffee, he said what had been on his mind for months. 

“Hey, Pete?”

“Yeah, Mr. Stark?”

“Call me Tony.”

He didn’t need coffee anymore. The smile Peter gave him was enough to keep him going for months.

They went on. Every day, Peter would come over, work, have dinner, and then go home. And every day, Tony was going more and more insane, during the day haunted by the sounds of music in Peter’s laugh, during the night plagued by dreams where he had the boy pinned under him, the same word falling from red-kissed lips over and over again. 

It took Tony four months to mess up. 

They were working on a new web design, and Peter was showing him the chemical compounds, and they were so close, hip to hip in front of that work station. So when Peter finished talking, Tony having not heard a single word, and turned to face him, big eyes so expressively asking for his opinion, he did the only thing he could do anymore. He leaned in and pressed his lips against Peter’s. He realized his mistake a second later, and he tried to brace himself for Peter pulling away and walking out of his life. But it never came. Instead, he felt two hands cup his face, and Peter deepened the kiss, a small whimper escaping his mouth. Tony’s hands were instantly at the boy’s waist, pressing him closer, pushing into him urgently, desperately. Peter slipped his hands in Tony’s hair, pulling at it, making their mouths part. He trailed his lips across the older man’s cheek, then down to his neck, where he started kissing and sucking, leaving small red marks on his trail. Tony groaned when he found a specific spot that made him roll his eyes, his hands cupping Peter’s ass, pushing their hips together.

“Oh, god,” Peter whispered against Tony’s neck, between kisses, “oh, god, I’m dreaming again.”

The kid pushed their mouths together before Tony could even begin to think about a response, erasing all thought from the older man’s brain. He picked Peter up, supporting him by his thighs, made a show of pushing off all the clutter from the work station, swallowed Peter’s giggle right from his lips, then placed him on the table. The boy’s legs parted for Tony so easily, so naturally, that he wanted to scream. His hands found Peter’s legs, trailing their form and encouraging them to lock behind his back. The kid’s hands were playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, caressing his jaw softly. Tony put his hands around the boy’s body, pressing him closer, and then Peter rolled his hips right on the older man’s crotch. Tony’s eyes snapped open, and he pushed himself off the other man.

“Wait – “ Peter was already shaking his head and pulling him back in – “kid, wait!”

Tony pushed himself off the table, taking two steps back and ran both his hands through his hair, breathing harshly. “Shit, shit, shit, what are we doing.” When he risked looking at Peter, the kid was staring right at him, tears running down his cheeks. Tony dropped his hands and immediately got closer, arms already opened. He gathered Peter to his chest just when the first sob rocked through him.

“Hey, hey, shh, don’t cry. Please don’t cry.” Tony put his hands on the kid’s cheeks, raising his head so he’d meet his eyes, wiping his tears away. “Come on, Pete, my heart is breaking here, please don’t cry.”

Peter opened his eyes, looking at Tony as if looking through his soul. “Is this a dream? Am I dreaming?”

“No,” answered Tony, emotion clogging his throat, “you’re not. You’re not dreaming.”

“Then why are you kissing me?” Peter placed his hands on Tony’s wrists, genuine confusion coloring his face.

Tony sighed. “I wish I had an easy answer for you here.”

“Give me a complicated one, then.”

“You’re the only one I wanted back. I didn’t care about the world, about all the other trillions of beings. I only wanted you.” Tony placed his forehead on Peter’s, trying his best not to cry too.

“I only want you, too,” came the whispered response.

“I’d be bad for you.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Yeah kid, I would. I’d mess it up, one way or another.”

Peter’s hands were on his face the next moment, holding him so he’d see the determination in the younger man's eyes.

“You wouldn’t.”

“Look, Pete, I appreciate the vote of confidence, but honestly, I’m not an easy person to be around. I’d be bad for you, so bad. You don’t even know.”

“But I do. You work a lot, and sometimes in the most inopportune moments. You forget about your medicine, and when you don’t, you take it with booze. You refuse to sleep until you finish a project, and you get mad when people try to stop you. You ignore calls and texts, you’re even one of those annoying people that leave the toilet seat up. You are late to date nights and complain about slow food or bad movies or less than exquisite service. You terrorize the poor receptionist at every hotel, hoping they’d remember you next time, and it always works –“ Peter laughed – “you lie even when you don’t have to, you create problems and then throw money at them, you forget birthdays and anniversaries.”

“Okay, kid, thanks, I get it. See then, how bad – “

“But you care. You’re always there when it matters, you always end up showing up-to-date nights, you are incredible to travel with, so smart and so elegant and better than all the views I ever saw. And on every sleepless night, on every project marathon, I’d be there with you, working on my own things. I know your work will always come first, trust me, I _know_, and honestly, I’d settle with being in your top 10 priorities. And you terrorizing receptionists is quite funny.” 

Tony was speechless. He was looking Peter in the eye, watching him smile softly back at him as if he was a fragile, precious thing, and his chest was aching. 

“How even… Okay, most of that is pretty obvious, but how did you know about the receptionists? We’ve never been on holiday together. Or about the toilet seat?”

“We were on a holiday when I was brought back,” whispered Peter, closing his eyes.

Suddenly, everything fell into place.

“You… wait, so, you were? To me?” The words were barely audible, as if Tony was afraid if he’d speak them out loud, they wouldn’t be true anymore.

“Yeah…”

“How? I don’t understand…”

“The soul stone made all our wishes come true.”

Tony felt as if a train had hit him right in the face. He pushed back, moving his hands to Peter’s shoulders.

“I’m not sure we’re on the same page here, Pete, cause from what I’m getting, you wanted this from before.”

Peter nodded. “For a very long time.”

“Kid, what exactly are you saying?”

“Remember six years ago, when I gave up the internship?”

“Yeah.”

“I did it because you were getting married, I was 15, and I was in love with you. Seeing you everyday hurt too much, and I wasn’t stupid. My changes were literally nonexistent. I wasn’t even legal.” Peter’s hand was shaking as he brought it up to Tony’s cheek, caressing softly. “And then I died and went to heaven.”

There were a lot of reactions Tony could have had. The most sane one was probably walking out and never see the kid again. Of course, what he did was smirk and ask: “In love with me?”

Peter laughed, keeping his hand right where it was. “Always.”

“This is still a bad idea, kid.”

“No, it’s not.”

“You better be sure, ’cause I’m about to kiss you again.”

“Please do.”

An hour later, during which they got upstairs in the penthouse, Peter’s stomach grumbled. They stopped kissing, laughed, both a little high on each other and ordered take-out. While they were eating, sitting on the floor, in front of the couch, Peter’s head on his shoulder, Tony asked, “So, married, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“How long?”

“It was our second anniversary the week we got back.”

“Two years. That’s something isn’t it?”

“It is.”

“You said we were on vacation?”

“Yeah.”

“Where?”

“The Maldives.”

Tony looked at Peter, a little shocked. “Got expensive taste in the last few years, didn’t you, Parker?”

“In my defense, I was spoiled,” Peter giggled.

Tony put their food away before laying Peter down and getting on top of him, kissing up his neck.

“Of course you were. Don’t worry, I’ll spoil the shit out of you.”

“I know you will.”

Later, when they were lying on the floor, next to the window, Tony started playing with Peter’s hand.

“Your wedding ring,” he asked, “you came back with it?”

“I did.”

Tony kissed him again. “Wear it.”

“I can’t,” Peter said apologetically.

“Why?”

“It’s not appropriate. It was your mother’s.”

“She never gave it to me. They buried her with it. Maybe I lied?” 

“Tony, she was alive.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“You met her?”

“Yeah.”

Tony kissed him even harder, wondering how much happiness can a person experience in one day. “Wear it. She would’ve loved you. I’m sure she did, actually.”  
Peter didn’t spend the night, and Tony tried not to be too disappointed. It all was worth it when, the next day, Peter showed up with his mother’s ring around his finger, and Tony got to take him upstairs and pull him apart piece by piece, finally getting to hear his name fall endlessly from those perfect lips, his hands fisting in the sheets, the ring shining in the soft light. 

(He never wanted to let him leave.)

When he was 51, Tony Stark took Peter to the Maldives to celebrate their second anniversary. He proposed, with his own ring. They made love on the beach, with the sun setting behind them. Once again, he asked himself if this was love.

(It was.)

**Author's Note:**

> So school starts tomorrow for me, which means inspiration had to hit me. It's 6:25 am. I haven't slept. Enjoy the fruits of my pain.  
All mistakes are mine.  
Comments and kudos are much appreciated!!


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